


Merry Sevenmas, lovely girl

by ewinofthelake



Series: Assassins in Winterfell [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Braavos, F/M, Fluff, Merry Christmas!, Sexy Jesus portraying Harrenhal!Jaqen and shamelessly quoting Shakespeare, The House of Black and White, inordinate amounts of silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 11:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewinofthelake/pseuds/ewinofthelake
Summary: Arya Stark of Winterfell has just left the House of Black and White and is trying to go home.6x08 coda.





	Merry Sevenmas, lovely girl

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an excuse to have them bickering and flirting a little, really. Pretty much nothing happens, but let's say time runs differently in my HoBaW and Arya is already 18 now so everyone's comfortable.
> 
> English is not my first language and I have no beta.  
> Arya and Jaqen belong to George R. R. Martin.  
> The solid hit on the head belongs to [PatriaRoux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatriaRoux/pseuds/PatriaRoux) :D  
> And the Sevenmas concept I think was first used by [starbird1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbird1/pseuds/starbird1) in her SanSan stories.

 

 

The salty air filled her nostrils as Arya walked through the chaos that was the port of Braavos at noon. Finding another passage for Westeros would not have been easy, now that the merchant ship she was supposed to embark on had long since departed. Wondering about the possibilities, she didn't realise when someone grabbed her from behind.

And that is how she ended up face first against a wall in a secluded alley, a solid body against her back, soft ground under her soles, and a hand over her mouth silencing her.

" _That_  is no way to leave your home, lovely girl," a sultry voice whispered in her ear, the hand slowly releasing its pressure.

She recognised the voice at once. "Jaqen, what in the Seven hells are you doing?!"

"Shh, do not fret now, we have a long day ahead of us," he said, removing himself lazily from her.

She turned and looked him in the eye. "Well, _I_ certainly have! The little stunt you had the Waif pulling on me has left me in quite a predicament."

"Silly girl, why do you think a man followed you?" Arya noticed then the laced shirt and leather breeches Jaqen was wearing.

"What happened to your robe?" She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes veiled with a hint of disappointment.

Jaqen couldn't keep the smirk off his face. "Ah, a man always knew all those layers of old rags are such stuff as the acolytes' dreams are made on."

"But, wait, I didn't mean..."

"Of course," he interrupted her. "But, just in case, a man has also packed one of his robes in the bag you are standing on, so a girl can still indulge in her fantasies while she is on the ship." He lifted a hand and brushed a strand of unruly hair from Arya's forehead.

She flushed, just a little, then suddenly understood why the ground under her feet felt so soft. "Why did you pack me a bag with your clothes?"

Jaqen furrowed his brow and huffed. "The Waif must have hit you on the head as well. How can a girl ask a man this?"

"Well, _a man_ should just shut up. I thought you were my friend. I told you I was leaving for good, and you just stood there with that stupid smile on your face – no advice, no parting words, not even a kiss goodbye," Arya blurted out. " _I_ should be the one to give you a solid hit on the head for that."

Jaqen's exasperation grew. He watched her for an interminable moment. Those grey and lonely eyes, those berry plump lips that had been haunting his dreams for months. He couldn't help it. He grasped her shoulders and, within a heartbeat, his lips were on hers.

It was just a light kiss, but he lingered there as long as he could. That is, until two small hands pushed against his chest with all the force they could muster.

"Insufferable girl, what is it now?"

Anger and astonishment coloured Arya's face. "Don't think I am going to stay just because you finally brought yourself to show some emotion now."

"Oh, but that is not my intention at all," Jaqen started, his eyes softening. "My intention, Arya Stark, is truly to be with you."

Her heart fluttered at hearing him call her with her real name. But she didn't relent. "Jaqen, I told you I'm going back to Winterfell, I..."

"A man heard you, sweet girl, but you perhaps do not want to hear a man. I am coming with you. The bag you are not so graciously resting upon is mine. It also contains a trinket for my stubborn wolf, if she wishes to accept it."

Arya looked down. Under her feet was indeed a large brown satchel, whose contents she realised she must have been actually crushing with her albeit lithe body. She stepped off, her hand involuntarily reaching over to Jaqen's for balance.

With his free hand, Jaqen reached down to the satchel opening, and after a split second he was holding a purple velvet package. "Here," he breathed.

She took the package and slowly opened the velvet wrapping to reveal a shiny dagger with an intricately ornate handle. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "It's... It's Valyrian steel," she noted after a closer look. Arya couldn't figure out the reason for him to part from such a precious artifact. "Why?"

"You will certainly make better use of it," Jaqen explained, "while I hide in the shadows with my poison darts," he added with a smirk.

Arya just looked at him, a soft smile shaping her lips. "Jaqen, but..." she started after a beat, a pensive look forming on her face. "Why now, and where has 'the man' and 'the girl' crap gone?"

" _A man_ is leaving the House of Black and White behind, forever. To follow _his girl_. There is no place anymore for such _crap_ , as you most courteously put it." He took her hand in his, and holding her gaze he lowered his head to brush his lips against the delicate skin of her wrist. "And I believe the Waif must have hit you really, really hard. You have not realised what tomorrow is, have you?"

"Tomorrow..." Arya briefly considered the rush she saw that morning, the people crowding the port, everyone carrying all kinds of packages and all sorts of food.

"Merry Sevenmas, lovely girl."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are the best presents all year round :)


End file.
